Adventures at Arkham
by Deranged-eccentricity
Summary: Things seem to be finally looking up for Adriana Killeswel when she finally manages to run away from home, but can she escape the demons that live inside her head? A chance encounter with an Arkham nurse changes everything. She's under Crane's rules now.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note_

This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic, so feel free to criticize it; I only ask that you try to be constructive. Telling me 'This sucks' doesn't do much whereas informing me of where I can make improvements would be more productive.

Of all the fanfics I've read, I have never come across one that depicts a character with an eating disorder, so I wanted to see how things could play out when Crane is confronted with one. Also I find that it's a disorder that is often misunderstood and gets a bad reputation, sufferers get labeled as 'selfish' or 'attention seeking' so in a way this is me trying to clear up some of the confusion surrounding the issue.

The way I imagine the story the characters fit into Nolan's portrayals, but with the addition of some from the original comics. The story doesn't specifically fit the timeline of the films, though there may be one or two minor correspondences. Crane is the head doctor of Arkham and I see him in my mind as Cillian Murphy. Arkham Asylum is located in the east end of the Narrows, instead of on an island.

Rated 'M' for bad language, horror, and references to/ vivid scenes of rape, self-harm, bulimia and/or suicide, and character death.

* * *

**3am Monday 17****th**** September.**

The backdoor clicked as Adriana pressed it shut. After checking herself over and searching through her rucksack one last time she steadily passed through the gate, making sure to close it with just as much precaution, and then turned to take one last look into the windows of a house she'd never quite been able to call 'home'. In a way her departure was oddly fitting to the neglectful years spent within those four sand-bricked walls.

_Good riddance._

* * *

Hours passed as Adriana wandered aimlessly through the generic suburbs of Gotham unconsciously towards the city's center. By this stage the darkness had somewhat subsided and the anonymity it provided her with passed along with it, giving way into an unsettling dreary grayness. She didn't bother trying to hide her face; the streets were still sparse and it wasn't as if anyone cared enough to follow her anyway, hell for all Rita cared it would probably be days before she even noticed her unwanted daughters absence, and if she did who's to say she'd bother with calling the cops? This didn't settle Adriana as much as she wanted it to. She was all alone.

The streets eventually filled with their regular commuters and consumers, going about the day as if it were part of a strictly regimented routine. Men wore suits. Women wore skirts. The way they all walked, it was as if their thighs were bound together, only allowing them to move in rudimentary lines and circuits, like drones, robots even. No one spared Adriana a second glance, leaving her to enjoy the brightness of a Monday morning in Gotham central.

By now the sky had cleared somewhat and the smell of fresh bread began to fill the air, at this her stomach began to growl so she made her way over to a nearby bakery. Scanning her eyes over the showcase's contents she quickly became encapsulated with thoughts of satisfying her hunger with the many sweet things that lay before her. It wasn't until the baker cleared his throat for the_ third_ time that she snapped from her haze and shamefully ordered two of the largest cakes before returning her gaze to the lovely pastries.

"That'll be five dollars ma'am"

Adriana half-heartedly rummaged through her purse, her thoughts still on food, and accidentally spilt several coins onto the floor around her. As she bent over to retrieve them she caught glimpse of her large, round thighs: the way the fat in her legs jutted out at the sides of her knees and wobbled like jelly at the top of her thighs…Her hunger diminished instantly and Adriana felt like a deer caught in the headlights as the subsequent guilt consumed her. She hurriedly ran from the shop, abandoning her order which lay on the counter wrapped in a paper bag and the disgruntled baker who shouted after her for wasting his time.

Panting heavily, she dropped onto her knees into a nearby alleyway and let her internal punishment consume her; she didn't even need to relapse this time to feel the shame of indulging her weaknesses.

_Disgusting. Weak. Pathetic._

The warmth of her cheeks and feeling of unease in her chest reminded her that she may have left her broken home behind, but there was no escaping the demons that plagued her mind. At this realization she felt like crying, only she didn't, couldn't. Dropping back onto her heals and sliding down against the cool brick wall she shrunk into a ball and held herself until the pain and numbness lessened slightly.

* * *

Eventually 6'o clock rolled around and saw her strolling through the heavy crowds that encircled her, along platform 4 at Gotham City Train Station. Though the proximity of others and forced human contact made her skin crawl Adriana persevered and capitalized on the opportunity to increase her funds. A skilled preceptor in the art of stealing, her hands brushed past her marks, delicately swooping into open bags and loose pockets, unbeknownst to the former owners of her new possessions. By the end of her second lap she turned to make her way up the staircase as a large, meaty hand latched onto her elbow, dragging her back to ground-level. Her eyes locked with the dark orbs of her aggressor: a burly middle-aged man with broad shoulders and more hair on his face than his scalp, dressed in a scruffy navy uniform with the word: SECURITY printed above his breast pocket.

" We've seen you on our cameras…I think you oughta come with m-"

Before he could finish the air burst from his lungs as Adriana's fist pelted into his stomach whilst her knee simultaneously came in contact with the man's crotch. His grip on her loosened, allowing her to slip from his grasp before turning to sprint towards the nearest exit as two distant, back-up security guards came to take over. As they profusely chased her through the platforms and halls of the station she darted through the crowds of muddled commuters and ducked into the ladies room and into the first stall. Adriana wasted no time as she shoved her scruffy blond hair into a bun and covered it in an equally disheveled deep brunette wig, swapped her shirt-and-jeans get-up for a loose black dress and her trainers for black pumps. She calmly emerged to the scene as an almost entirely new person, managing to easily slide out of the guards' range, through an emergency exit and into the now dark back-alley streets of Gotham.

The wind felt cool against her long, pale legs as it swept passed, leaving her with Goose-skin. Eager as ever to put more distance between herself and the guards, Adriana wasted no time in snaking her way through various alleys and streets, in no particular direction, until she was sure that she was alone. Then it dawned upon her: she had absolutely no idea where she was or what she was supposed to do next. What now?

_Running away without so much as a backup plan? Nice one, Idiot._

"Shut up."

_Oh touchy! Well maybe if you hadn't gotten caught at the station…_

"It was a fluke."

_Face it: You're __**slipping**__. And from the looks of things, it's not the only thing you've lost control over._

Adriana just stood there, so caught up in her own stress that she didn't notice the rain as it begun its heavy downpour, steadily soaking her, or the dark figure that crept up behind her, until she felt a sweaty hand cover her mouth and the cold blade of a knife press against her bruised neck.

"Well looky what we have here" Mumbled a gruff voice, followed by a hand that slid down from her mouth to feel her narrow waist.

"A little skinnier than I prefer but **hey**, I'm sure I could _fill_ you up" She cringed as his fingers trailed down the length of her thin dress, slipping under the fabric to stroke her inner thigh as her entire body clenched from the contact.

"Don't be shy princes…" he slurred, roughly pushing her up against a wall whilst strategically keeping his knife at her throat.

"Mmm you're a quiet one…" -his hand smoothed up her leg-

"But I'm suure…" –she held her breath-

"...That I can…" –his hand tapped at the band of her underwear-

"...Make you sc-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH HHHHH!"

Her blood-curdled scream cut him off as Adriana dug a knife of her own into his groin, causing his eyes to widen in shock as he grasped at the source of the pain, searching for the weapon that had already been removed and was now flying towards his neck. He landed with a pleasing SMACK onto the concrete as the sole of her foot collided with his upper torso. Before he had time to react, several more knives found their way into his wrists and ankles, lashing at his tendons and veins, causing even more blood to spill out into the growing puddle that held him.

Adriana remained silent as she fiercely yanked her beloved knives out of the rapist's filthy body, relishing the sight of it spasming in pain each time. Knowing that by this point he could be too weak to fight back she arrogantly wiped them clean on his jacket before stomping on his face and wandering off into the night.

"80 minutes" She whispered, a genuine smile creeping onto her lips for the first time that day.


	2. Chapter 2

**7:03 am Wednesday19th September.**

"Jen, listen I'm real sorry but I might be kinda late to work today…yeah my car wouldn't start this morning but I only had it checked the other week…yeah…yeah I'm walking to the bus-stop right now…could you? Thanks hon…"

As she turned the corner of Mulberry Park Susan Philips stopped dead in her tracks as she caught sight of rags against a nearby tree; _That's odd_. She wondered, pacing closer.

_Oh god…_

"Uhm, listen Jen I gotta go, see you at work, yeah?"

Her hand mechanically slid the phone into the left-front pocket of her nurse's uniform as Susan crouched down to get a better look at the unconscious girl in front of her. Nestled against the tree, her thin frame was wrapped in a tattered, loose black dress, splattered with those little red dots that, having worked at Arkham Asylum; Susan was all too familiar with. Her clothes weren't ratty enough for her to be homeless, but the girl's lack of make-up and the way her body shrunk into the tree suggested that she wasn't merely crashing from a drunk night out.

_She must be freezing…_

At this the girl started to awaken and Susan realized just how young she was, no older than seventeen, definitely. As her eyes fluttered open they acknowledged the shadow and slowly wandered to meet Susan's with a bewildered yet defensive stare.

"Sweetie, are you okay?"

-No answer-

"Are you lost? Is there anyone you want me to call for you, your parents?"

The girl remained silent for several minutes before answering with an almost mute "No, I'm fine thank you." As she struggled to her feet Susan began to pick up on the stench of dirt, vomit and blood that clung to the girl like a second skin, some of which was bruised and scarred, especially around her neck. This girl needed help. Susan decided to start again.

"Look I know you're probably scare-

"I'm not scared." The girl cut her off, now standing between the tree and Susan, holding herself limply whilst trying to maintain a defensive stance. When she spoke it was calm and with crystal clarity.

Just as Susan opened her mouth to make one last attempt to offer the girl help she was interrupted by the generic pop-ring tone of her Nokia E6, she rummaged through her bag before remembering that she had left it in her pocket, just as she went to answer it the ringing abruptly stopped. With an irritated sigh she hastily returned the phone and tried to focus on her previous undertaking.

"If you want I-" but as she looked up there was no sight of the girl or her raggedy clothes that had first brought her to Susan's attention. Sweeping a panoramic surveillance over the park confirmed the girl's disappearance, and Susan hesitantly made her way to work.

* * *

She strolled through the doors of The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane' a full six minutes late, earning her a sixteen minute lecture from Ruth, the head nurse.

"Honestly Susan I think you just don't take your job seriously enough, all the _other_ nurses manage to get here on time and a lot of the doctors even get here **early**…"

_Oh __**goody**__, here we go._

"…Doctor Crane walked through those doors at 6:30am sharp"

_And here comes the poorly disguised monologue about her crush on Dr. Crane…_

"I know that if **he** had car trouble he would've taken a cab because that's how important his job is to him…"

_Hell, you'd drive him here yourself! Run his errands, picking up his laundry on the way._

Suddenly Susan's mind became animated with imaginary scenarious of stuck-up Ruth waiting on _Doctor Crane_ as he set her off on ridiculous errands whilst she stared at him with gooey eyes like his teeth were made of silver. She fought the urge to both giggle and scoff at the thought.

"…And now you're already too late for intern rounds"

_Because __**you've**__ held me up_

"You'll have to catch up later. Now go up to the surveillance room behind ward 3-05 to overlook Dr Quinzel's morning sessions"

Praising all that is holy for the permission to finally leave, Susan didn't look back as she marched out of the nurse's station and into the escalator that took her to the therapy sessions of Gotham's most psychotic. Despite the usual 'excitement' that working with the mentally deranged brought to her day, Susan's thoughts constantly flooded back to the mysterious homeless girl. Where was she now? Whose blood was on her dress? And how did she get those bruises on her neck?

* * *

Weeks passed and her questions went unanswered. Susan even altered her route to work to include a circuit round Mulberry Park just so that she could heck to see if the girl had returned to the Oak tree where she had slept against that morning. The tree remained the same each time, tall, dark and thick, with rugged tubular veins running from its moss-covered feet all the way up its spine until giving way into strong, overhanging branches, nestled beside the bristly, geometric hedges that ran around the perimeter of the nonspecific park. It looked exactly the same as it did that morning, only it was missing the one entity that Susan hoped to find each round.

* * *

Settling into the usual 5:30pm traffic lined down the Gotham's highways, Susan prepared for the 10-minute wait as the standstill traffic refused to budge, manually rolling down the window closest to her to let in some much needed fresh air. It was then that she caught hold of the heavy stench of carbon dioxide that hung in the air like baubles on a Christmas tree. The smell thickened as the air steadily grew opaque. Without really thinking about what she was doing Susan jumped out of her car and towards the source of the heavy smoke, tracing it round corners and across the neighboring streets until its foundation became clear. Roaring flames emanated from the wreckage that Susan presumed had once been an abandoned house. Steadily pacing towards the scattered crowd huddled around it she wondered what an earth could've happened to cause such a thing, sure the house wasn't far from the Narrows, but the neighborhood was relatively clean-cut, well, for Gotham anyw-

It was then that she saw her. The blonde girl from the park. Only, she wasn't blonde; scraggily chestnut locks framed most of the girl's portrait, but Susan _knew_ it was her. She stood, at the very end of the street, dressed in ripped black jeans and a tattered army jacket, some of which was noticeably singed, even from a distance. Susan half-ran towards the girl, slightly, albeit, surprised when she didn't try to run away. Then she realized why. Several cuts etched along the young girl's attire and the right leg of her jeans was soaked red from all of the blood gushing from what could only be a bullet wound. The look of poorly-disguised agony on the girl's face confirmed it, and Susan knew what she had to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay so I've been feeling generous and decided to give you all 3 chapters in under a week.**

**Some reviews/favorites/follows would be nice & would motivate me to upload the next chapter **

**Happy holidays! Hope you enjoy the latest installment.**

* * *

Several hours later the girl was awkwardly leaning against the edge of Susan's shower cubicle, left foot propped against the wall above the toilet, allowing Susan better access as she dis-infected the wound before sealing it with stitches. The girl across from her remained bewildering as ever; she hadn't spoken much, though Susan now knew that her name was Adriana and that she had recently moved here, or so the girl had told her. It was obvious that she had secrets that she wasn't going to share, and talk of ' family' was taboo, that much was clear by the way she subconsciously winced and it her lips from the inside each time Susan asked.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" muttered Susan gently, already knowing the answer.

"No, but I'll be fine, I shou-

"Well why not stay here?" She pressed; not liking the way her voice sounded when she tried to manipulate but not being able to conjure up any better approach.

Adriana paused; she couldn't think of a worthy reason to reject yet another offer from this seemingly kind stranger who had taken her in and stitched her up. Her subconscious told her to get the hell out of there, run before getting taken advantage of, screwed over or attached.

Run _where_ though?

Susan ignored the look of indecision apparent on Adriana's timid face and made the choice for her, as she wandered to fetch extra blankets which she then set on the sofa.

That night Adriana slept a long, dreamless sleep, curling into a fetal position as she pulled the blankets closer to more thoroughly encase her body, soaking in the _clean_ smell of the freshly washed sheets and not shifting positions for the rest of the night. Eventually the sun poked through the curtains and aroused her from her slumber. As she gently kneaded her palms into her eyes Adriana realized that she had managed to go a full night without screaming, or falling out of bed. No haunting memories or torturous voices had come to pay her a visit, and for that she was beyond grateful.

* * *

There was no denying the lack of space in Susan's tiny 3-room apartment; living on a nurse's salary whilst still paying off student-loan debts and pursuing an internship to become a qualified psychiatric doctor definitely meant that she had to cut back on luxuries, and it showed. On the contrary, Adriana much preferred it over the spacious suburban purgatory that she had previously resided in; finding comfort in its modest furnishings and often spending her days reading some of the many books that filled the four tall-standing shelves, or watching old films on the thoroughly outdated television and video player set.

Susan left for work each morning at 7am and didn't return until 5:30pm when she'd come home and cooked dinner. Though Adriana never ate in front of her, Susan soon began to notice the missing quantities of food each morning and the hidden wrappers, though she never pushed her about it, out of fear that is she did she might leave.

* * *

**5:20 pm, Friday October 12th**.

Huddled in the corner between the bookcase and the wall, Adriana was just about the turn the page onto the last chapter of her favorite Lemony Snicket book when the sounding of the door against its frame snapped her out of her trance-like daze.

"Adriana?" The note of unease in Susan's voice immediately told her something was wrong. Adriana's nostrils flared at the sound.

"I'm here" she replied, crawling out from behind the aged, chestnut bookcase. "What is it?"

"Sweetie, I'm afraid I have some bad news: my landlord heard the T.V playing whilst I was at work and figured that I had someone staying here. This apartment's only meant for one person...

_In other words, you're kicking me out._

"Oh." was all that Adriana could muster as she realized that she actually really didn't want to leave. This place had become a sort of 'safe haven' for her the past few weeks, the nightmares had stopped and though her eating habits were still a mess she hadn't used her knives in weeks, not on herself anyway. And then there was Susan; she was the closest thing Adriana had to a guardian in a long time, and now she was going to lose her too.

"It's not that I want you to leave, _trust me_."

"It's okay, I understand" she mumbled, absent-mindedly silently making her way to the door.

_All good things come to an end._

"I still want to look after you though" she interjected, reaching out for her arm to stop her from walking out.

This confused Adriana immensely; **the whole concept of being wanted.**

"How?" **_Why?_**

"I-I'll sneak you into Arkham! You can live there-in one of the empty rooms near the ward I patrol. It'll be fine; I'll make sure no one sees you."

Minutes of tense silence passed between them, beads of sweat were almost visible on Susan's face; something inside her couldn't bear the thought of being the reason that this sweet, quiet girl before her was forced onto the streets. Adriana stared directly back into Susan's eyes with complete and utter bewilderment, _what was this woman's angle_?

_What've you got to lose?_

Locked up in Arkham? My sanity for starters…

_Oh please. If anything it'll be fitting: the loony living in the loony bin. Maybe you'll fi-_

"Okay" speaking more to cut off her own internal criticism more so than to answer the woman in front of her.

"Okay? Okay as in you'll go?"

"Yes." She whispered, feigning a smile as Susan embraced her whilst she silently prayed that she wasn't making yet another mistake.

* * *

Rain pattered against the tiny DVD-sized slot of a window that lay among the highest row of bricks in the generic, four-walled cell as Adriana stared into the barely visible night sky. Susan cleared her throat, causing her to turn away and instead focus her attention on her surroundings. The decor was bland yet sufficient; consisting of a bunk bed, an old wooden dresser, and a closet beside the door behind which lay a small bathroom.

"This is only temporary; I'll look up local housing foundations and mayb-

"This is fine." Adriana's voice was mute and monotonous as she cut Susan off, torn between the pain that she felt from having to leave her latest 'home' and the relief of finding a place where she knew people would never think to look for her; Adriana was adamant not to make either emotion apparent as she awkwardly thanked and dismissed Susan. The sound of the wrought iron door slamming shut against its frame reinforced the deep loneliness that Adriana ought to have grown accustomed to by now.

_You don't need her…You have me!_

"I wish I didn't."

_Liar. You NEED me, what would you be without me?_

"Normal."

_FAT. Well, fat-ER. Face it, I'm the reason your clothes fit, and the backbone you needed to finally leave that hell-hole._

"And look where I am now? Locked up in an ASYLUM where the walls are white and the dress-code includes STRAIGHT-JACKETS. This was never part of the plan."

_This is better than the plan! Besides, we both knew it would've failed eventually…_

"No!"

_And you'd go C-rawwling back..._

"I said ENOUGH!" Her legs gave way beneath her and fists flew to her head, pounding, as Adriana desperately tried to silence the thoughts and feelings she didn't want to confront, to _feel_.

_Even Susan's left you she's not coming back y'know_

"She said she would"

_And you believe her? Girl you need to __**wake up**__: She kicked you out and brought you to a MENTAL asylum full of psychopaths!_

"She did it to help me"

_You sure about that?_

* * *

**6:45 am Monday October 15****th****.**

The morning guards greeted Jonathon Crane as his shiny, black Bentley pulled up, raising the barriers to let him pass through to the employee car park. He continued forward and Sandra kept her head buried in a magazine as she saw him near her station, silently begging that he didn't notice her.

"Good morning Sandra! I see you've forgotten to style some of your hair today, better hope you haven't left the curling iron on…" He smirked; as if he could see her cheeks reddening behind the copy of 'US weekly' with angst as she desperately racked her brain trying to remember disconnecting her appliances whilst a hand insentiently rose to 'even out' her hair.

_Oh it was going to be a GOOD day…_

Crane parked in his assigned space, one of the closest to the building, corroborating his superior ranking, and made his way through the entrance of 'The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane', smiling at the receptionist as he sauntered towards the staircase that led to his office. After setting his briefcase down onto his neatly organized desk, Crane skimmed through the agenda for the day:

7:00AM: CLINIC HOURS – LEFT WING. MEDICAL CENTRE. ROOM 2.09

9:00AM: REGULAR PATIENT SESSIONS:

-PATIENT #07483 HUGO STRANGE

- PATIENT #0189 AARON HELZINGER

- PATIENT #0827 PAMELA ISLEY

- PATIENT #0231 MALCOLM DUNCAN

1:00PM: NEW PATIENT ANALYSIS

- JASON WOODRUE

- WAYLON JONES

3:00PM: PSYCHOLOGY LECTURE FOR UNDERGRADUATE CLASS AT GOTHAM CITY UNIVERSITY

All in all, it wasn't a boring day, especially as today marked the fourteenth day in Helzinger's trial; the effects of the latest toxin should really be kicking in now. The signs he had already begun to show were fascinating! It was like watching plants that you had grown from buds, begin to bloom and sprout fruit.

-bsszsphs- "Dr. Crane?" the receptionist's panicked voice came through on his answering machine. "There's been an incident in the room of patient #0517 ward 2:07"

"I'm on my way."

_…A GOOD day indeed._

* * *

The hours passed quickly and Crane soon found himself wandering the route from the X-ray labs on the 3rd floor back down to his office on the 2nd. Strolling through an empty ward the distinct sound of faraway coughing and choking caught hold of his attention and stopped him dead in his tracks, reassigning his destination to its source. A few short minutes later found Crane outside of a supposedly 'empty' patient room, subtly peeking through the plexiglass window of its door, his eyes glued to the sight of a skinny, adolescent girl perched silently on the edge of a bed, her eyes were unfocused as her mouth lightly traced words that Crane couldn't quite decifer, was she…_counting_?

…

_"Cereal bars 525 so that's 3465 but deduct what came back up let's see: chocolate 545, biscuits300, milk300, crackers350, bread550, cereal bars525…okay but then that's still 2185 and 7am that's 10 hours so 1000, to maintain 2100 so 85 over but 600 above goal-"_

- Someone knocked on the door.-

"Shit! Oh F-UCK, uhhm" – Adriana flew off the bed and was half standing in the bathroom as a tall, handsome with black hair and piercing blue eyes took three steps into the room , scanning through its contents and finally settling on her. She gulped. His hard gaze washed over Adriana, leaving her with a slightly desecrated feeling. As if able to read her thoughts the man smiled, administering the feeling further.

"What have we here?"

Adriana remained silent, unable to break away from his shocking blue eyes as he began to walk around her to make a more thorough assessment, causing her to withdraw and sink into the door-frame of the bathroom.

Crane continued to politely ask questions as he probed her: Adriana remained silent.

"You do know where you are don't you?..Hmm, no jumpsuit so you're definitely not an inmate, no gown so you're not a patient either…"

Suddenly he grabbed the wrist of her right hand, pulling her jacket up past her elbow and held the inside of it up between them.

"How did you get these?" he questioned, motioning to deep pink scratch marks that trailed haphazardly upon her alabaster pale skin.

At this Adriana's head began to pound.

_HOW DOES HE KNOW?_

Her lips remained sealed, though there was no mistaking the distinct shock and fear that her deep green eyes now held. Crane relished in her angst.

"I'm a doctor here." He said, as if in answer to Adriana's internal question.

"I can help you, but if you don't start talking then I'll have to call security."

After another full minute of silence Crane fake-sighed, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and began dialing. His finger was hovering over the 'call' button when Adriana finally spoke.

"I-" she closed her eyes, unable to look at him as the words came out.

"Sometimes I get angry."

"Everyone does. I'm afraid I'm going to need a little more than that."

"It was payment for my mom's debt to a drug dealer; she killed herself."

At this Crane's eyebrows raised.

"What, the scratches?"

"No... These." Adriana raised the jacket further up her arm, making it clear for him to see the large, dark pink, circular burn marks that almost covered the skin of her upper right arm completely.

At this point a smile began to tease at the edges of Crane's lips as he replaced his phone back into his back pocket. NOW she had got his attention.

"I have a proposition for you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the feedback, please read & review and feel free to mention any criticisms/ tips you have :)**

**Pretty short chapter, but if you're lucky it won't be long 'til the next ones up ;)**

* * *

_Empty bottles littered the grimy pavements throughout the back alley of Jefferson's & Co. Two guys: one slightly younger, the other with dark clothes, piercings, a beard and a gun hanging out of his back pocket. They stood lurking within the shadows of the night as the younger ran his shaking fingers through his mangled, greasy black hair. A tall blonde prowled forward into the scene, with a short red dress and leather jacket wrapped around her slim frame and a smile etched upon her cherry red lips._

_"I held up my part, where's the money J?" The taller one growled._

_"Cool it man, like I said Adi's takin' care of it."_

_"Speak of the devil" –Adriana moved into the light._

* * *

_Alcohol. Neon signs. Heavy crowds. Florescent lights._

_"Your first time?"_

_"Please. Do I **look** like a first-timer?" she snorted._

_The tattooed man leered, leaning back against the bathroom stall as he waited his turn. A mixture of boredom and mild curiosity written across his face._

_"You gumming it?"_

* * *

_Dark skies. Wet Grass. Sirens. Ragged breathing._

_Running._

_Mud. Slippery. Falling. Vibrations. Pocket. Phone. 20 missed calls._

_"Shit."_

* * *

_A little girl with soft, light brunette ringlets; four years old, playing with toy horses. Smiling as she looked up at the approaching figure._

_…_

_The same girl, slightly older, curled up in a ball on the floor, shaking._

* * *

_The kitchen._

_"HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU STAND THERE LIKE THIS ISN'T ALL YOUR FAULT!"_

_Rita Charged forwards until she was mere centimeters away. Adriana tensed her stomach, staring up into the hate-filled eyes of the tall brunette as she settled her body into the counter-top for support and blinked just in time for the blood spray all over her face as the older woman spat at her._

* * *

_- Darkness -_

_Hands wrapping around her throat, squeezing. Red spots. Gunshots. Gagging._

_- A flash of light -_

_A sharp pain in the back of her throat._

_The sound of a gun being loaded and pressed against her temple._

_"It should have been you." She snarled, pulling the trigger._

* * *

Suddenly Adriana leapt from her bed as she burst awake from her violent slumber. Her eyes were wide and her torso was covered in a sheen of sweat as her right hand reached to feel where the gun had blasted a bullet in her skull in the dream; it had all seemed so_ real_.

* * *

"As part of our agreement and in order for me to help you I need you to be completely honest with me."

Adriana shuddered as Crane repeated the basis of what she had begrudgingly agreed to in exchange for an official induction and residence at Arkham.

_Should've held out for more._

"Full name."

"Adriana Tuesday Killeswel"

"Tuesday?"

"It was my mother's name."

"I see. Left or right-handed?"

"Right."

"When was the last time you had sexual contact?"

_What?!_

**_Is he even allowed to ask that?_**

_You heard what he said: 'completely honest'_

**_Fuck._**

Adriana's eyes widened and she winced at the memory of the rapist in the alley. Cranes exterior remained unfazed, though his pen danced across the notepad he held in his opposite hand.

"Six months ago."

"Tell me about your family."

_No further questions?_

**_Hey, don't question it; just be grateful for the change of topic, idiot._**

"After my parents got divorced and I went to live with my dad. I didn't like it so I left."

"I sense there's a whole lot more you're not telling me."

Adriana smiled.

"Why waste hundreds of words on something that can be summarized in twenty?" she queried, arching an eyebrow in what could only be described as a strange and slightly poor attempt at regaining some of the confidence that his previous question had taken away from her.

Now it was Crane's turn to smile, as he leant back in his office chair and continued scribbling erratically onto his notepad.

"Who brought you here?"

"A woman... Her name is Susan. She works here."

"Why?"

_Why do you **think?**_

"There was nowhere else to go."

He nodded.

"What were you counting before I walking into your room?"

"Grams."

"Of..?" He prompted, moving his hand outward from his chest and opening it in the same time, rolling it forward.

"Fat."

"Why not calories?"

Adriana let out a sigh.

_Amateur._

"Everyone thinks that it's about calories- **but it's not**. A piece of chocolate contains the same amount of calories as an apple. Difference is one has 5 grams of fat and the other doesn't." The way she spoke showed how passionate she was about the subject.

"-And it's not just fat but **saturated** fats,_ they're the ones that you're body doesn't have any use for._" She laughed once and began shaking her head in disgust.

"-Pretty ironic how most of the foods that we crave are actually least of all what our body needs." her voice was laced with bitterness.

"How long have you been bulimic?"

No answer.

"Miss Kileswell..?"

His words ripped into her like knives. Suddenly it felt as though a layer of her skin had been torn clean off. She felt so _exposed_.

"How did you know?" she whispered, voice tense.

"I'm a trained psychologist; I read the signs." He stated, simply, as if they we're discussing something much less severe. His words did nothing to comfort her, but, then again, they weren't supposed to.

She swallowed hard, then stuttered, blinking as she choked on the word. "S-signs?"

"Sore throat. Poor dental hygiene. The way you hold yourself..." His eyes tilted back; expressing his lack of interest in the specifics of the matter as well as her hunger for information concerning his deductions; this was_ his_ research.

Adriana immediately unfolded her arms and sat up straight, her tongue ran over the front of her teeth and she arched her back noticeably; as if to try and achieve a different evaluation. _Pathetic._ Crane smiled as she unwillingly confirmed his diagnosis.

"Miss Kileswell I need you to answer the question."

This time she answered immediately, eager to get through the inevitable and move onto another topic. Anything but _this_.

"On and off for Four years."

"How often do you relapse?"

"Up to five times a day."

"I see, and what is it that made you start?" He leaned forward in his char, elbows on the desk.

Once again Adriana remained silent, though this time it seemed to be for other reasons. Her shoulders were hunched and her eyes unfocused, staring into distant nothingness as she tried so hard to search for something she couldn't quite grasp. Crane made note of it and decided to move on.

"The orderlies heard you screaming last night."

It took a few minutes for Adriana to recover, and then a few more to fully absorb his most recent question.

_The heard me screaming…But they didn't come in to check on me. Why?_

"I had a nightmare"

"What about?"

Adriana kept her answers short. Crane's retorts were immediate.

"My mother in law."

"At which point in the dream did you wake up?"

"After she killed me."

"Bare hands or with a weapon?"

"GLOCK-7.92"

He paused.

"Miss Killeswel, I would like for you to keep track of your dreams in a diary. Everything you remember, every detail. Okay?"

Once again she gulped and began to stammer. "Uhm...I-I don't think I can do that."

"Why not?"

She leaned forward flightly and frowned into the space infront of her, her gaze on the floor.

"My dreams are hard to describe. Sometimes it's not even a dream, just a noise, or a thought- or a feeling. They vary in intensity and sometimes I lose track of whether I'm dreaming or not."

"Very well." Crane muttered, shifting in his chair as he jotted down everything she had just said. His eyes once again began to probe her.

"And what _feeling_ did you have in your dream last night?"

"The same one I've had ever since I came here." Her eyes suddenly moved from the floor to his.

"- that I'm not safe."


	5. Chapter 5

**A big thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, you guys rock :D**

**Warning: this scene contains a fairly vivid description of a bulimia episode. The content of which some may disapprove of or find disturbing. **

* * *

Friday October 26th.

Ever since she had brought Adriana to Arkham, Susan had endeavored to spend every moment of free time she could grasp checking on Adriana. Unfortunately for her it just wasn't that easy; the hospital was hectic due to the admission of multiple new criminals and Ruth seemed to be purposely dumping all the work she could on Susan's plate. A thick pool of guilt consumed her as she made her way over to ward 3.D7 as she mentally scolded herself for not checking up on Adriana sooner. It came to her dismay then when she finally managed to get a chance to see her only to find that the room was exactly the same as when she had first taken her there.

Empty.

Panic shot through Susan like a lightning bolt and planted her where she stood hovering outside the door, looking in through the small window.

_Where is she? What's happened? Did she escape? Has someone found her? Is she still here? Oh god. What if one of the other 'patients' found her?_

An image of Adriana: cold and pale and limp, laying lifelessly on a Coroner's table as he imprudently examined her bruised body plagued through her mind and the pool of guilt threatened to drown her completely. Where ever she was now; If anything happened to her, Susan would never- **could never** forgive herself.

* * *

Queues of haggard-looking, mismatched convalescents, all dressed in generic, slightly out-dated, casual attire, lined the white-washed walls of the Asylum's large cafeteria hall. The klinking of trays sliding along metal rails, muted conversations and the scuffing of heals against linoleum floor provided a soft yet unsettling atmosphere. Everything appeared to be in order: medium-sized square windows lined the upper back wall, allowing in a sufficient amount of light; people sat at tables, either in groups or alone, picking at their food and engaging in mild conversation; elderly ladies in blue aprons and hair nets stood behind a beige counter-top, ladelling out various foods and soups on and into dishes. From a distance, the scene seemed like that of any within the canteen of an establishment. It would only be upon closer inspection that one would realize that these people each had serious mental illnesses and disorders. The windows were situated so high up for a reason, and they were lined with wrought-iron bars, meaning that the light shone through in dreary, rudimentary rectangles onto the cheap flooring, which was tinged with pink in places where the blood had left a permanent stain. Most of the conversations were in the form of violent whispers, self-imposed by patients with schizophrenia and bipolar disorders; the lunch-staff wore stoic expressions as they served the occasionally violent customers, and the plates were shatter-proof thick plastic, designed with large rims so that they could also be used to hold soup.

Beside the stack of trays near the L shaped hot food counter stood a tall, greasy-haired man with broad shoulders, donned in scruffy black jeans and a washed-out shirt. He was leaning against the wall, eying up everyone that passed him with an unhidden look of hunger in his eyes.

Adriana hovered in the entrance, unsure of her next move. Eating in the company of others had always been at best 'unpleasant' for her, but it had been nearly two days now since she had last eaten and, sadly for her, the room before her was the only available source of food.

Why can't I just live without food?

_Because you're weak._

I lasted two full days.

**So why stop now? You'll be throwing away all the progress you've made!**

At that very moment Adriana's stomach churned intensely, expressing its pain from lack of nourishment in a violent way, and she knew that she would have to eat something.

The Queue moved at a relatively fast rate and Adriana panicked over the lack of time she had to thoroughly weigh out all of her options. From what she could see on the trays of passersby, the choices were: spaghetti bolognaise, roast beef (with the fat) and whatever went with that, or tomato soup with toast and butter. There were only ten people between her and the trays.

_Well spaghetti bolognaise is OUT OF THE QUESTION, atleast 600 calories and god knows how much fat…Beef if stoddgy and its SOAKED in fat juices…Tomato soup probably has full fat cream in and the toast is covered in butter. Atleast 400 calories, maybe even 500._

**Its okay, just get the soup and leave the bread, 180 calories, max.**

Six people in front.

Adriana's stomach growled.

_Get the spaghetti! It's the most filling, just stop eating when you're full._

Oh please, like I can do that!

_Use a tissue to soak up the fat juices from the beef._

Ask for the toast without butter!

_Ask how much fat is in the soup!_

See if they have anything else.

Two people in front.

**Maybe you should just leave it.**

_And then what?_

Ask for a smaller portion!

One person.

**Turn back, you're not ready.**

Adriana bent over and picked up a tray from the stack.

_Don't eat the crusts._

Cut off the fat.

**Only eat half!**

STOP IT.

"Tomato soup please."

The elderly woman in front monotonously lifted the lid of a large cauldron, revealing a steamy light-red soup which she stirred once with a ladle, and then served some in a generic plastic bowl-plate. She then dished up two pieces of pre-cut, pre-toasted, pre-buttered bread from a large rectangle tray full of rows of the stuff. The bread had turned yellow from soaking up so much of the butter, which matched the little bubbles of fat on the surface of the soup.

Adriana felt herself stomach churn, this time out of disgust...or was it hunger?

_The butter would make it easier to bring back up._

**Stop it.**

She stared down at the food on her dog-bowl shaped plate, gulped, and then timidly began to move away from the counter so that other people could be served. She looked over at the many circular tables that filled the large hall, each seated up to six people, though most of them were only held small groups. It seemed that a lot of the patients preferred eating alone, this made Adriana smile, _she wasn't the only one_.

After a few minutes of wandering through the uncoordinated rows of tables, Adriana made her way through to the far corner of the hall and set her tray down at the very back,a position which allowed her both protection from onlookers and surveillance of anyone that might think to approach her.

_Don't flatter yourself._

Once comfortable, Adriana returned her attention to the food on her tray. The soup looked _okay_, and she felt sort-of confident that she could handle it, the same couldn't be said about the butter-soaked bread though; she set it aside, careful not to touch the plate too much. As the first few spoonfuls of lukewarm soup made their way down Adriana's undeniably sore throat, she only felt more hungry, and her stomach growled as though only just being truly awakened. The soup disappeared fast, and Adriana didn't think twice as she devoured the buttery toast. **It tasted so good.** Somewhere between the soup and toast, her mindset had changed completely; now all that mattered was finding more food to prolong the elated feeling that she felt from satisfying her hunger. Her eyes scanned the room, beside the empty tray rack was a door to the kitchen. All she would need was a distraction…

_Bingo._

Luckily there seemed to be a large amount of people moving towards with empty trays, which meant that it would be harder for anyone to notice her slipping through the staff door. Once inside Adriana slid effortlessly through the empty kitchen (all of the staff were still busy serving) and made her way over to the freezers. The large, opaque containers inside were all identical excluding the name on each label: spaghetti bolognaise, fish pie, pasta bake…Adriana kept digging until she found what she was looking for: a large, industrial-sized tub of chocolate ice-cream. Along with a large spoon which she found conveniently laying on a nearby counter, Adrianna hid the tub inside the oversized jumper which she wore, then snuck out of an opposite exit which led into a main hallway. Her thoughts were so consumed with food that she didn't bother trying to make her way back to her room, instead she ducked into the nearest open storage room she could find and locked herself in. Once inside she removed the tub of ice-cream from her jumper and set in on the floor, sat back against the door and carefully removed the lid, eyes lighting up when she saw that the tub hadn't been previously opened. As she rapidly began consuming the ice-cream a faint voice in her head confirmed that she was once again relapsing and that she would inevitably have to purge all of this later, but for now she didn't care, relishing in the positive endorphins that eating released, whilst accepting this as her strongest source of happiness. It was sad to think of it like that, and Adriana tried to push all negative thoughts to the back of her mind, allowing the experience to both elate and numb her simultaneously.

Before she knew it the ice-cream was gone, and Adriana was scraping the sides of the tub to savor every last drop of cream. Accepting that it was over, she replaced the lid back on the now empty tub, hiding it at the back of a low compartment on one of the shelves, behind some dusty looking cleaning supplies. Upon standing up she suddenly became aware of just _how uncomfortably full_ she was. Her formerly almost- flat stomach was now plump and round; the mere sight and feel of it was enough to make her hurl regardless.

_We need to get rid of this. NOW_.

Once again she began to listen to her inner critic as it guided her back to her new room and through to the en-suite bathroom, where she hastily pulled her scruffy blonde hair into a bobble and then leaned over the toilet and pressed her fingers into her lower abdomen, allowing the vomit to spill out of her until she started to feel better. She could taste the mixture as it came back through her mouth, running over her taste buds: at first it was just like how the ice-cream had tasted going down, but gradually it became more acidic as she started to unwillingly bring up bile as well. Adriana persevered and forced herself to keep going, right up until her stomach was no longer inflated and round. She still felt fat though, and by now her internal critic was furious.

_PATHETIC. DISGUSTING. WEAK. IT'S NOT ENOUGH. KEEP GOING. GET IT ALL OUT. YOU SICKEN ME._

Adriana continued until the sick began to harshly burn her throat and make her teeth and gums throb painfully. **It was game over now.** Staring into the tortured muddy, green eyes of her reflection in the mirror her hands curled into fists. It wasn't enough. She needed to be punished for what she had done. Nails dug into her arms, legs, back and torso; scraping to the point that they drew blood. By now she was sitting on her bathroom floor, welcoming the relief that spread through her as she dug her long, sharp fingernails in further and deeper.

* * *

In a far-away office, Dr Crane studied the monitor in front of him with intense concentration, whilst simultaneously scribbling pages of notes. His electric blue eyes followed the movements of the figure before him, as she stared into a mirror, watching her face contort in pain and then her lips curl into a smile in the reflection when she began applying alcohol to the cuts that littered her body, savoring in the stinging pain that it obviously brought to her.

Ten minutes later the girl turned away and into the other room. Crane clicked off the screen and lay his pen on top of the spiral bound notebook; he'd gathered enough research, _now it was time to have some fun_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, it's been a while since I last updated. If you're interested in the story then please rate & review; like I said before: it motivates me to update quicker :) Anyway, enjoy! **

* * *

**Thursday 1****st**** November**

Adriana's new room at Arkham was nearly identical to her first, with the exception of a key slot below the door handle and a poorly disguised camera situated in the upper corner of the room opposite her bed.

_He's __**watching **__you!_

On the way to what would be her second 'official' appointment with the doctor, Adriana couldn't help but wonder if she really knew just what she was getting herself into as his words played over in her mind:

"In exchange for my discretion towards the police and the arrangement of a permanent place here as a _non_-criminal patient, you will be required to attend regular therapy sessions and abide by an instructions that I delegate to you …"

I really am _screwed_ aren't I?

_Yes._

It was then that the true meaning of his words _really_ sunk in, and though she couldn't even begin to properly articulate her thoughts, the **feelings** that she wanted so badly to express were inwardly tearing her apart. Words that she couldn't bring herself to so much as whisper were begging to be screamed in anger. **The pain. The loneliness.** The sheer _helplessness_ of the entire situation .Adriana was trapped; her options had been snatched away the moment_ he_ stepped foot into her hideout: if she tried to escape now the hospital's armed guards would come after her. If she stayed, who knows what would happen.

_I guess we're gonna find out._

It soon became apparent that somewhere between her room at Ward 3.B.5 and her mini-psychological breakdown Adriana had completely lost track of which way she was walking and somehow ended up in the middle of nowhere.

_Right, __**don't panic.**__ Just look around and ask someone for directions. _

Calm as ever, well, outwardly at least, she ventured onwards and soon found herself in a hallway where the walls were coated in soft clementine colored paint. This could only mean one thing: she was in the midst of the 'numeric' wards for criminal psychopaths. Here the cells were wider but considerably less well-kept, and each held glass in place of the wall that would otherwise have helped form a standard, brick-walled corridor, as in the alphabetic wards. The glass allowed onlookers a clear view into the activity of each cell.

_Like caged monkeys at the zoo._

Surprisingly there were no visible guards around, which, in itself begged many questions concerning the management of Arkham Asylum, in addition to leaving her with only one option. Cautiously, Adriana stepped up to the nearest glass wall of a cell which, according to the metal plaque beside the door, was home to patient #01674. The room appeared to be vacant.

Strange.

Adriana's brow furrowed as she lightly pressed herself against the transparent barrier in search of the mystery patient.

"WHEEERE'S WHALLY!" A skinny red-haired main jumped out from behind the glass, formerly hidden in the depths of the shadow that Adriana cast upon the floor of the room.

"Fuck!" Adriana stammered back, very nearly tripping over her own legs before hastily catching herself.

The man in the cell appeared unfazed by her reaction.

"RIDDLE ME THIS!" He boomed.

"What haaaas: four eyes but can't _see_; big wings but can't _fly _and two lives but _no brain_?"

Whilst dramatically posing the riddle the man had become wildly animated and even provided visual demonstrations for each 'clue'; opening and closing his fists which outwardly covered his bright green eyes for the first; flapping his arms like a bird, and then hitting his head whilst imitating the movements of a demented chicken for the last.

Adriana just stood there, jaw wide open, too shocked to even fully assimilate his words, let alone make an attempt at deciphering their meaning. Meanwhile, the man had continued to ramble senselessly, spinning off more cryptic messages.

"Wait!" she interrupted. "I'm sorry but I don't have time for this, I really need your help! I'm a patient here; I need to find Doctor Crane."

After pausing mid-word, the man stood there, gently rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.

She sighed.

"Never mind" she muttered, shaking her head as she turned away.

"It is light and it is dark. It is savior and it is succubus. Protector of the harvest. Igniter of insanity. Creator of the contagion."

_What?_

This riddle was distinctively different from the first. The way he spoke, almost with compassion, albeit, detached, but still …_was he trying to warn her_? Unfortunately Adriana wasn't given much time to dwell on his puzzling words as a beefy hand grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Eh whadaya think you're doing? You ain't spos'tah be down here!"

"I know-I'm sorry!- I got lost and I- he jumped out and-"

"Woah, woah woah, calm down. Where'a you sposed to be?"

"Well I was on my way to Doctor Crane's office."

The guard's expression turned to steel at the mention of the Crane and he suddenly grabbed Adriana by the wrist, and pulled her back through the way she came.

"Hey! Ow! _Let go_! Where are you taking me?"

He remained silent for the whole way of the journey as he dragged her along corridors and past several wards, up a rickety flight of stairs and then through doors that required a 5-second scan of his identity card to be opened. It came as such a shock when he randomly stopped outside of a seemingly indiscriminate door that Adriana almost walked right into him. Just as she was about to question their whereabouts and his actions, the door suddenly swooshed open, and a tall, well-pruned brunette-haired woman in a dark blue scrubs stepped out.

"Ahaha well John, what can I say!" she giggled, stepping through the frame until she saw the two people infront of her. She glared at the guard for several seconds and then appraised the girl in a malign yet sly sort of way, before composing her features in a knowing smile. The effect she had was deeply unsettling, and managed to leave Adriana feeling just as exposed as Crane did when they first met.

_Watch out for that bitch._

The guard yanked Adriana through the threshold fiercely. She was then greeted with the curious blue eyes of none other than Dr. Crane himself.

"Found her creeping around in ward 1.15 boss.-"

"Thank you, Rogers. That will be all." Crane accredited, subtly leading him out of the room before locking the door and turning to focus his attention on Adriana, arms stretched slightly outwards, palms facing upwards.

"Please sit." After a few minutes pause she did.

Meanwhile Crane went back to his desk, continuing to comb through the piles of documents spattered over it as he had done prior to the series of interruptions.

The girl in front of him just sat there, on the very edge of her seat as if scared that her full weight would break it, awkwardly scratching at her knuckles whilst her eyes wandered over the stratum of his large office, determined to keep her gaze off of him.

Her anxiety was _delicious._ The way she held herself: legs together, hunched over, all limbs inwardly positioned. It didn't matter if she never spoke a word of her condition, or even lied her head off to him for that matter; her body language and facial expressions always gave her away completely.

A few more moments passed before Adriana finally plucked up the courage to speak.

"So…Uhm, look, should I go or…?"

Crane paused, half-heartedly threw his pen on the table and then glanced at his watch. 4:17. He had to hand it to her; he was expecting to at least make it to half-past the hour.

"Am I making you uncomfortable Miss Killeswel?" Crane leaned back in his chair, fluidly removing his glasses and not making any attempt to hide the smugness that was written in his lips as they stretched into a smile.

She meagerly tried to return it. How _cute_.

"No." She lied. "Not at all, it's just…"

"just…?"

She began scratching at her knuckles again, more fiercely this time.

"Well you obviously have work to do and…"

"How did you get those bruises on your neck?" he interjected.

That had done it. She abruptly stopped mumbling. Hands flew to her neck and instinctively rubbed. _Ropes._ Even though they had almost completely faded by now the girl obviously held the memory of how they came about quite closely. _Four weeks ago, give or take_. Her eyes were wide with fear and her lips began to quiver. _Someone she knew_. Her head tilted forwards and brought her long blonde hair along with it; a feeble and clearly useless attempt to hide what Crane had noticed the first time he saw her.

This time she took as much time as he expected for her to collect herself before finally looking up, though still avoiding his eyes. _Submissive._

He pretended not to notice and instead simply repeated the question, slightly reworded:

"How did you get the bruises?"

She swallowed.

"I was tied up."

"Go on."

"It happened about two months ago."

Impossible. Bruises never take longer than a month to heal, even those as dark as hers were.

"How?" he queried, already having conjured up a plausible and likely theory.

"I did it."

This time it was Crane's turn to pause for thought, and they both knew why. Nevertheless it produced the desired outcome as she began to fervently dig her nails into the back of her neck and drag them, just as she had done on the video.

_No wonder it took so long for the bruises to fade._

_…_

16:31. Okay that was enough time.

"And _why_ did you do it?"

"_Why_?" Her head tilted, cheeks raised, eyes squinting slightly. The memory and the feelings that came with the marks were obviously painful to reflect upon.

"Yes, why; what was the desired end result?" His voice was so mundane; he spoke so casually about such a crude subject. Meanwhile, Adriana wanted to crawl inside herself. Her limbs drew in closer. Eyes fixed on the small black box that lay on the edge of his desk, lips barely moving as she spoke in an equally monotonous voice:

"I wanted…to not feel things anymore."

_Get to the point._

"You wanted to kill yourself?"

Her brow furrowed and her head sunk lower.

"Things got bad, I-I thought it was the only way."

_Shallow water; I want __**more.**_

"Define 'bad'" The way he said the words confirmed his dominance in the situation. He wasn't asking.

"I was all alone. Rita started again. Rachel stopped speaking… They were better off without me. It was what they wanted."

His follow-up questions were instant.

"Who is Rita?"

"She was my step-mother." Her voice cracked on the last word.

"And the other woman: Rachel?"

No answer.

"Miss Killeswel?"

Her teeth dug into her lips and they turned from deep, rose pink to white in mere seconds.

Visions girl bombarded Adriana's mind, impairing her vision and capturing her in a trance-like state for what felt like hours. His words came through clearly enough, but she was in a completely different room.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need an answer."

"Rachel was Rita's daughter."

"Your sister?"

"I suppose you could call her that." She sounded far away.

"What else would you call her?"

"I wouldn't call her anything, Doctor; she's not mine to call."

"But she was in your dream the other night."

"Yes."

"What was she doing there?"

"…Crying."

"Why?"

Minutes passed. By now Adriana was curled up in a ball on the chair, no longer concerned with her impact on it. Her eyes stared into space whilst her nails dug into every piece of flesh that they could reach without relinquishing her sunken position.

"Miss Killeswel."

Adriana blinked, eyes still unfocused as she whispered timidly.

"She was just lying there. Exactly the same as...I got there as fast as I could but it was too late…The house. The blood. I'd never seen her like that before; she looked so…helpless. I could still smell the gasoline- **it was so strong**. And- and…" At this point she was hyperventilating, breaths coming out in ragged gasps. Beads of salt water welled up in her eyes; their consistency matched that of the thin trails of blood which ran down over her hands and feet as her nails sunk in much deeper.

Crane stood up from his chair and slowly approached her, once again with open palms and eyes holding what appeared to be concern. He patiently waited for her to collect herself once again. Minutes passed but eventually she swallowed back her pain and met his gaze.

"Is there anything I can get you Miss Killeswel?" His voice a mixture of caution and …_care_?

"What?" She looked up, puzzled.

"Perhaps a cup of tea?"

"Uhm"

"Warm drinks have been proven have calming and relaxing effects." He smiled, turning away and walking around her to the other side of the room.

"Oh, uh okay then"

"Wonderful."

Along the wall upon which the main entrance to the room was situated- the only one that Adriana had previously known of - stood a very small 'makeshift kitchen' area which consisted of two overhead cupboards, a sink and a kettle. Adriana watched with mild curiousity as he pulled out two mugs, both dark blue, set them on the counter and began filling the kettle with water from the tap. Her eyes soon drifted to the many bookcases that surrounded him and filled his office; neatly arranged in rows according to color and size; some held no name on their spine and the ones that did were written in large, uppercase golden font. It was amazing how immaculately everything was composed, his entire office for that matter; everything had its own place. Adriana wondered if things like thoughts and feelings were arranged in a similar manner inside the Doctor's head.

Before she had time to dwell on the thought a mug of warm, milky tea was placed in her hands. Crane was back at his desk, scribbling into a journal. Adriana stared down into the murky, light-brown liquid within the mug, apprehension apparent in her features. Crane gazed into her eyes gently and took a sip of his mug, closing his eyes and smiling softly as the liquid made its way down his throat. She hesitantly mimicked his actions, swirling the liquid in her mouth to appraise its flavor before swallowing it.

The liquid warmed her from the inside as it trickled down into her stomach which let out a growl of unease.

Crane stopped writing and instantly looked up.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"This morning."

"Did you bring it back up?" he asked.

"Yes." A thought crossed through Adriana's mind, and her expression turned to one of accusation. "_You know I did_."

Crane didn't speak, but the look on his face pushed her to elaborate.

"I've _seen_ your cameras." Her tone was bitter.

Crane sat back once again, calm as ever. "Hospital regulations Miss Killeswel, the cameras are there for security purposes alone."

"You watch the tapes yourself." Her words posed as both a question and a statement.

He shrugged. "On occasion."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion which lessened his forbearance as shown through his retorting.

"Miss Killeswel, if a patient is having violent breakdowns then it is in their best interest that a doctor is alerted."

"But, if you can watch the tapes, then why did you ask me to keep a diary of my dreams?"

"I would have thought that you'd understand that better than anyone, Miss Killeswel."

Crane waited but Adriana kept to herself.

He sighed. "What is seen from the viewpoint of an outsider is often completely dissimilar to what is experienced by the person involved."

His words echoed in her head over and over again, to the point that they no longer held any reference to their conversation. Time passed; how much was impossible to tell. Adriana gazed into the planes of her palms as his words washed over her repeatedly, though she was almost certain he'd only verbalized them once.

* * *

_"It's not though, is it?! __**Damn it Ade, I can't do this anymore!**__ The things you say…your stories don't match up and none of this makes sense anymore!"_

_"I-I'm sorry. Really!-I know you didn't want this and I've tried really hard to stop it but I can't…"_

_"You _can_. I _know_ you can__**, you just don't want to**__."_

_"I do! I just-"_

_"Not enough to change…and I can't fix you."_

_"Please don't leave me."_

_"I'm sorry Ade."_

_"__**Jake-NO!**__"_


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, it's been a while since my last update; sorry! A MASSIVE 'Thank You' to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed this story, you're all super amazing and I love you! Anywhoooo, it's valentines day and being the forever alone/ slightly nice person I am, I've decided to give you guys the latest installment. I hope you like it, feel free to criticize (preferably not TOO harshly though) if you don't and share any ideas you have for the story :)**

* * *

Straight lines. Grids. Contours.

…

Wide eyes stared into the overlaid ceiling above them, analyzing each tile in great detail. Shape. Size. Discoloration. How the light that shone through the minuscule window gave the otherwise two-dimensional squares form and provided an accented framing. To successfully pinpoint the exact place where light gave way into shadow was near impossible.

Minutes faded into hours. Pressure. Restricted blood circulation. Numbness. Limps sunk into the floor around them but eyes never broke contact with the entity which consumed their full, undivided attention.

Shadows deepened and the dividing lines became harder to discern; soon the squares all morphed into one and the resulting optical strain became too much for the eyes to withstand, as they finally succumbed to the shrouding cover of their lids.

"In other news, today a local pharmacy just outside of Gotham city center was broken into last night. The money from the store's safe, as well as various medicines and general household products were stolen. Police say this is the work of no amateur thief, as all five security cameras were disconnected and the burglar alarm was disabled prior to the intrusion…"

The message replayed over the many rows of TV screens that lined the front windows of Radio Shack as Brett Matthews sauntered past, paying no attention to them as he flicked a still-lit cigarette bud onto the ground with his left hand, whilst simultaneously digging into the back pocket of his scruffy, black jeans to fetch another with his right.

As the cigarette made its way into his cracked, tobacco stained lips he caught glimpse of his fake-designer wristwatch.

4:13pm: that gave Brett a full 107 minutes to kill before he needed to be down at the docks for the next meeting. He lessened his pace to a slow swagger, shuffling along in direction of the location the Boss had told him to check out.

At the main crossing men and women in both business and casual attire waited for the lights to change color. At 6 ft 5" Brett had a great view into the loose pockets of the mostly rich Gothamites around him. He had to be careful though, as demonstrated by past experiences, Matthews had no more than 30 seconds: just enough time to pick the pockets of one not-so-lucky bystander. One target stood out to him, a short brunette, wearing a large blue trench coat, the left-side pocket of which was FULL of 5, 10 and 20 dollar bills.

_Jackpot!_

His hand swooped down on the bills like a hawk on its prey as the light turned amber, fingers curling around the money as he slowly began to remove his hand. Suddenly, a hand wrapped around his wrist, nails digging in fiercely; forcing him to relinquish the money as he came face to face with the thief he'd tried to steal from.

Brown eyes locked with green.

"_You!_"

"Shit!"

Brett tried to run but the girl latched on to him with all her strength. His body jerked violently as he desperately tried to shake her off, shrugging out of his jacket and taking off at full speed through the crowds in the street. Having anticipated his actions, she quickly discarded the article on the ground below, determined not to lose track of the man that had maimed her.

Signs, buildings, vehicles and people had all become a blur as the couple played a vicious game of cat and mouse in the back-streets of Gotham central. Her fury fueled each sprint but his powerful strides kept him just out of her grasp.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Brett's head. Without warning, he stopped dead in his tracks and held out his left arm as the girl came lunging towards him; punching her square in the stomach. The strength of his fist, combined with the force of her speed caused acid to shoot out from inside onto the road in front of her as she fell to the floor, weakly, hands clutching where his fist had hit her. Matthews didn't spare the girl a second glance as he rushed around the corner and into an abandoned house in the next street.

Eyes opened into pools of crimson red. He was getting away. _Again._ The thought was unbearable, and it forced Adriana to ignore, or at least endure, the excruciating pain that subjugated her gut, and get back up to continue the hunt.

The echo of his footsteps on the tarmac had indicated his direction, but it was something else from within that led her through the gate of a rundown house on Meldrew St. The doors were locked, but this was hardly an obstacle. Underneath the front window lay a pile of housebricks.

_Perfect._

Three minutes later saw Adriana creeping up the rickety staircase that led to the second story of the house, having already searched through the ground and first floors. The stairs gave way to a hallway holding only one connecting door. No lock. Fingers wrapped around the L-shaped handle and twisted slowly, pushing the door open. She was no less than two feet in the room when the heavy force of a fist smacked her in the back of the head, causing it to throb intensely and blur her vision. This only angered Adriana further which helped her to push through the pain and retort with a fierce kick to the groin of her attacker.

Matthews hunched over and let out a moan of pain. Much to his dismay, she took advantage of his new position and landed another blow with the steel toe cap of her black boots, this time in his face. The hit knocked him flat on his back, and his hands rushed to his split upper lip and bloody nose

"You bastard!" She screamed, charging after him and stamping on his stomach.

He was one step ahead of her though and yanked at both of her ankles, pulling her down to the floor as he twisted on top of her and leered down.

"Ahaha, **you're dead **girlie-"

Her legs snapped up and pushed into his chest with all of their might, throwing him off of her and into the wall. Adriana was on her feet in her flash but Matthews was already there, swinging blows at her from every angle which she struggled to dodge. Against all odds, she managed to catch the 5th fist he threw at her within an inch of her face, and in less than a second the roles were reversed as she lunged at him with the rage of an incensed wolverine.

A punch collided with her jaw. Blade into his shoulder. Steel kicks. Fiery slaps. His knuckles left bruises against her alabaster pale arms; they matched the deep red lines she trailed across his neck with her impossibly sharp talon-like nails. She had him cornered. He spat in her eye and pulled a gun. She stabbed, he swerved, the gun flew out of his hand. The bullet nestled into her right shin and sent her tumbling to the ground once again.

The corners to Matthew's blood painted-mouthcurved into a victorious smile and deep, husky laughter erupted from his throat and filled the room as he leaned over to regain his gun and finish her off.

Only, he never made it there.

As soon as Matthews tried to move from his position a sharp pain shot through the point in his chest where he had been stabbed and quickly spread to the rest of his torso. Brett's head began to spin uncontrollably. The pressure was rapid and insufferable, to the point that he didn't even notice when he could no longer open his eyes. Dizziness, fatigue and aching pains across his back bought Brett to his knees; he collapsed onto the ground where the girl used to be and screamed out in pain and anger:

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." came Adriana's soft voice from a distant vicinity of the large, wooden room. "You should've known better than to celebrate so early."

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU INJECT ME WITH YOU WHORE?!"

"Oh we'll get to that later. Right now we have a score to settle."

His answering screams made her smile.

"Now Brett," she soothed. "Tell me, do you remember the last time we met?"

Her voice was closer.

"Do you remember what happened that night?"

Brett couldn't abstain from screaming, though he said nothing.

A sharp kick to the ribs soon reminded him of the current balance of power between them.

"Answer me!"

"Ow-Yes!" He wailed.

"Tell me."

…

"I said TELL ME! Tell me what happened!"

By now his screams had turned to sobs. "We c-came after your mom-*huick*- to your house- to get our money."

"That's right." She purred, walking around his body as it convulsed in agony. "My mother owed you money that she didn't have. So one night, you and your little chums came barging into our house and demanded she pay you back. THEN WHAT." She cussed, crushing his ankle with her own. The strike was powerful, though it came with not nearly as much force as she'd have liked to inflict due to the growing weakness in her right shin.

"AAAHHHH- WE BEAT HER!"

"That wasn't enough though, was it? She owed you BIG, and you wanted to _really _make her pay. SO, you went upstairs…AND?"

"WE GOT HER DAUGHTER!" He cried.

"That's right." She whispered, now lurking somewhere to his right. It was minutes before she spoke, but when she did, the words were laced with acid. "You and your heartless, **disgusting** cretins ripped her eight-year old daughter- _OUT from under her bed here she'd been hiding_- AND THREW HER DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRCASE!"

Her words cut into him like knives, and were accompanied by the real blades which made their way into the sides of his ribs as he continued to scream.

_It wasn't enough._

"You remember what you did then?!"

"AAAAAARGHH-WE TIED HER UP"

"AND?!"

"AND WE BURNT HER WITH CIGARS"

"WHY?"

"TO MAKE HER PAY!"

"Huh." She laughed once, humorlessly. "Right. Karma. An eye for an eye, and all that, right? See though- that's the thing Brett." Her voice: once again distant, and hauntingly calm. "That night humph." She sighed. "That night you went against your own logic when you attacked someone who didn't deserve it."

In a heartbeat her lips were at his ear.

"Someone who did _nothing_ against you. - Someone who had **already paid** for her mother's debts- every night she came home angry. Tell me, where's the karma in that?"

The burning in his chest roared and deepened into his stomach as she spoke, her voice as light as air. "Did you honestly think I'd never come back for you?"

At that very moment Brett felt his liver, kidneys and stomach light up with fire, all at once. No scream could've ever been loud enough to convey the sheer amount of pain that racked his body, though his attempts brought a smile to Adriana's lips once again. The sound of his demise filled the air around her: it was like sweet music to her ears.

"Now, about your current predicament." She grinned, stepping over his out-stretched limbs and over to her large blue trench coat which lay in a heap by the window.

"As you may have already noticed, a toxin of some sort has made its way into your system. Methanol, to be exact. Ever heard of it?" She wondered. Brett just grunted, weakly.

"Hm, guess not. Anyway, it's easy enough to get hold of: perfumes, antifreeze, paint removers, varnish, the list goes on! Now, if ingested, it metabolizes into formaldehyde in the body and damages the liver, kidneys, and heart; it causes the lungs to take on fluid and the brain to swell." She paused. "Any of this sound familiar?"

As her words washed over him, so did a light tingling feeling: along his arms, then his chest and then his legs, and over again. It was both pleasant and disconcerting.

"... Once the formaldehyde becomes present in the body, it can cause fatigue, headache, nausea, vertigo, back pain, severe abdominal pain, dizziness, vomiting, rapid and shallow respiration, cyanosis, coma, falling blood pressure and _blindness_." –A nearby flicking noise: the sound of pages of a notepad being turned.- "A person can ingest methanol and not feel any symptoms for up to twelve hours…but I'm guessing you weren't so lucky, huh Brett?" She chuckled. The tingling sensation on his skin continued, and Brett was able, even in his paralyzed state, to connect it to a feeble hissing sound.

"Now, I know what you're thinking:" Her words spoke over the noise. "Is. This. Going. To. Kill. Me?" She nipped the skin across his sullen neck with a blade at each syllable as if to emphasize the point.

"It's a good question! And the answer is yes: once a person digests even a _small _amount of methanol, death due to respiratory failure is almost certain unless they are treated within two hours.

The hissing stopped, and was replaced by an even fainter scratching noise. Meanwhile, Brett's sobs had turned into howls of torture.

"Lucky for you, there's a hospitable not fifteen minutes away from here." She paused. "UNLUCKY for you, I'm not sure they'll be able to get to you before the fire does." And at that Brett felt the faint touch of something being flicked onto his chest: a lit match.


End file.
